Infernal Gray Ch. 02

Betty Harding lay awake. It was one o'clock in the morning, and she knew where her husband was. Unless he was on the way back. He was at Inferno, the sex club where human women went to find demon partners. Reportedly, the ratio was nearly ten women per demon. Many of those women were willing to fuck any demon they could find, so the odds of Gray finding someone, or multiple someones, to have sex with were a hundred percent.

Supposedly they did it right on stage, in front of everyone. Right now, her husband was possibly balls deep inside some young, nubile woman, fucking her in front of everyone. It turned her on a bit, thinking about it, but it also frightened her.

And it had been her idea. They'd been monogamous for the entire three years of their marriage. He'd had some trust issues. A former lover, Nicole, had lied to him, and really messed him up for a while a decade ago. Nicole had been "the older woman." Betty, on the other hand, was younger, with six years fewer than her husband's thirty-seven, but she was keenly aware of having crossed the barrier into her thirties.

They had a very normal marriage until the night Gray got turned into a demon. Infernal, Betty told herself, but no one called them that, and it was hard to remember. Since then, sex with Gray had been anything but normal. It had been extraordinary. The very best sex ever. And they'd had lots of it. Three times a day, she guessed the average was. Their record had been ten times on one Sunday, and she hadn't been able to walk straight at work for a week. He was talented, considerate, and he was very, very big. And no matter how often they had sex, Betty had the feeling it wasn't quite enough.

They'd explored anal, just to give her pussy a rest, but the end result was that she generally ached in three places rather than two. So she had given Gray a hall pass, knowing full well that once he crossed that line, he wouldn't want to go back. The old Gray, maybe. But now, with a demon soul inside him, the stamina of five men, and a nearly insatiable lust? No. She'd told him he could fuck another woman, practically begged him to in order to give him a rest, and she knew that her marriage would never be the same.

She wondered what she had done.

They had friends who were "poly." It was always a very equal deal, where both the husband and the wife were free to go find other partners. Her poly friends even laughed at couples where the man tried to insist the woman could only have female partners. The "One Penis Policy," they called it. Betty figured that egalitarian was the way to go, if you were going to do it at all, and she'd always assumed she'd be able to find partners easier than Gray would. She was not only younger, she was a woman. But now? It wasn't equal, and it wasn't going to be. It wasn't merely that she didn't have any interest in fucking anyone else. No human could compete with Gray for quality of experience, and the idea of taking more big red cock? No. And also, ow.

There was also not much doubt that Gray would have a much better chance of finding partners than she did. Sure, probably over fifty percent of the female population wanted nothing to do with demons. But for the remainder, they were the best, and since human females outnumbered male demons by over 10,000 to 1, the sexual economics were heavily in Gray's favor.

It was estimated that there were more women who refused to have sex with anyone but a demon, than there were demons. By a lot. And there were a host of women, probably again more than the number of demons, who had pledged to have sex with any demon who asked. The Church of the Infernal Angels, a cult on the west coast, encouraged the pledges, but there were plenty of women who had reached the same conclusion without religion involved. Why pass up ecstasy? And why settle for less?

Betty put on a nightgown. A book, maybe, would settle her down. Not a romance, those rang hollow these days. A mystery. She'd read about someone getting murdered and clues and things while her husband was railing some platinum blonde.

Somehow, she wasn't able to focus on her book. She kept looking out the window to see if Gray had come back late. He knew he could recover from sex in just a few minutes. She hadn't expected him to stay long, really. Just long enough to enjoy another woman, and then right back home. That had been naïve, because there would always be another another woman, and he would always be ready for her.

Should she even ask how many? Did she want to know?

She was twenty pages in, with still no sign of a corpse, and she'd looked out the window four times, when she heard a car coming down the street. It was their car. Despite the fact that she sold them, they only had the one. Gray worked from home, and didn't mind dropping her off at the dealership in the morning and picking her up every evening. He made less money than she did, but they weren't materialistic, and they managed to save plenty.

He pulled into the driveway. He got out of the driver's side, and she smiled at the sight of her husband, as she always did, forgetting for almost a second the angst she'd been feeling. His long, talented fingers, that could play the piano well if not professionally, and those eyes that found beauty in so many things and managed to translate that beauty onto canvas. He had a little satchel in his right hand, and she knew it contained the ever-present sketchbook, along with a few pencils of various hardnesses and at least two different kinds of erasers.

He was at the door, now. Had he seen her? Would she seem too eager to have him back, if she opened it for him? She ended up turning the knob just as he did and then backing up to get out the way of the door as it swung into the house.

"Hello, Betty," he said. He walked in and kissed her. "Why are you still up?"

"I figured you'd be worried about me," she said, which was true in a way, but she embellished it. "And I wanted you to know right away that I am with you a hundred percent."

"Aw." He kissed her again. "It was certainly an experience."

"You were gone longer than I expected," Betty blurted. "How many women did you end up fucking?"

"Um, none, actually."

"None?" She wondered if he'd had second thoughts. But he wouldn't have been out so late if he had. Surely those women at the club weren't too good for her husband. He was pretty handsome, even as a human, she thought, although she knew she was prejudiced. Any demon-crazed woman would be lucky to have him.

Am I actually getting annoyed at women for not fucking my husband?

"Well," he said. "I did get a blowjob. And another woman - no, you don't want to know about that."

"Another woman?" she pressed. She didn't want to know, and she did.

"She helped. Let's call it a two-girl blowjob."

"Ah." Well, legitimately, that was not a service he was getting at home. One could only find that in a restaurant, as it were. "Was it good?"

"It was amazing."

No, no. I wanted to hear good. Not amazing. But two girls. Well, yeah, it would probably be amazing. "I'm glad," she said. "But just one?"

"I kind of spent the rest of the time drawing."

There was something he wasn't telling her, but she couldn't imagine what it could be. Given that she was ready to hear that he'd had sex with a dozen women, what would be difficult to talk about? And at the same time, getting distracted by art was her husband, for sure. "Were there lots of pretty girls to draw?"

"Yes." He paused.

"Can I see?"

"I suppose. Maybe that would be the best way, actually." He walked to the dining room table and sat down. She sat down at the nearby seat perpendicular to him. He pulled the sketchbook out of the bag, flipped past several pages, and showed it to her.

He'd merely skipped past the ones he'd drawn before going to Inferno, she realized. The first one was of women standing in line. She'd always been amazed at how fast he could catch the essence of something. She could feel the eagerness of the women, and in some cases, anxiety.

There were a few like that, some of the line, some of women in it who had caught his eye. Beautiful women, even though they were captured with just a few lines mostly. Betty wondered what it would be like, standing outside on a chilly evening, in a little black dress or a skimpy skirt, hoping that inside you'd get fucked by a really big cock.

Then there were some of the inside. More beautiful women. Had Gray taken some artistic license, or were all the women in the club like that? If she had gone, would they have turned her away as not being quite lovely enough for infernal consumption? Gray had drawn a demon fucking one woman, while two other women, naked, rained kisses on him. "Three on one. Lucky demon," Betty remarked.

"I think I saw as many as seven," Gray remarked. "Three was nothing unusual, actually."

"But you only got two?"

"Well, the night was young at that point," Gray said. "And I didn't exactly try to round them up."

"My husband should have gotten at least four," Betty said. "Those women have no taste."

Gray laughed. "Funny choice of words. I saw a lot of infernals being licked."

"Well, you do taste very good. Do they all?"

Gray shrugged. "I wasn't doing the licking."

"But you were lickee?"

"Yes. Just the two women, actually."

Somehow, the fact that he'd spent the whole night with just two women was actually more threatening than if he'd been with a dozen. "What were their names?"

Gray chuckled. "You know, that's kind of embarrassing. I didn't get the name of the blonde who - well, oh well."

"The blonde who what?"

"Rimmed me."

"Oh, god, that's gross!" Betty said.

Gray shrugged. "It felt pretty good."

"And you didn't get her name."

He shook his head.

That was a service he wasn't getting at home, either.

Betty flipped a few more pages. These drawings were posed, and it didn't take long for Betty to realize it was all one girl. "This one. Is she the one that blew you?"

"Yes."

"And what was her name?"

Gray winced. "I thought I was better than that."

"Huh?"

"You don't recognize her?"

Was she some celebrity? She looked more closely. The girl did look familiar. She was young, obviously, with a very toned, fit body. Nice legs. A good chest, too, neither big nor small, but firm breasts. He'd drawn them in enough different positions that she could tell that. Nice arms. Of course, maybe he'd made her look better than she was. He did that sometimes, for portraits. Not too much, just a little tweak here and there, so that the patrons were pleased. He always insisted to them that he simply drew what he saw, but he confided otherwise to Betty.

Then it clicked. "Sara. Sara Summers. The girl who was going to go to medical school, you remember? She stayed home through college, and then moved out of her parents' house when she went to grad school, and then they moved away to. You remember? Well, obviously you remember Sara. You saw her at the club. You - she gave you a blowjob?"

"Yes, I said that."

"You did." Betty was talking out of nervousness now. "And then she posed for you. Naked. All night long. That's why you were gone so long, you were drawing Sara. And you didn't fuck her?"

He shook her head. "No. I just drew. I was - in a trance, almost. And I listened to her."

Sara was younger than Betty. She must be what, 24, 25 now? She'd been in her early twenties when she lived across the street, and Betty and her used to talk. She didn't remember her and Gray talking much, although he remembered Gray drawing her a few times while she washed the car. She was a little minx when she was doing that, wearing tight clothes and shaking her ass at the neighborhood.

When you have an artist husband, there was never any point in wishing he wouldn't look. Probably true when one had a non-artist husband, too. "Uh, how is she?"

"She's good. Got a degree, working as a nurse practitioner. Smart girl. Wants to be a slave."

"Um, that last part, again, please?"

"Wants to be a slave," Gray said. "It's a Ruritanian thing. You know they'll give citizenship identification to any infernal that asks for it at the embassy. Well, they also have a sort of legal slavery, where a human can pledge themselves to an infernal. I think then she - it's usually a she, but not always - becomes a Ruritanian citizen too."

"A rather second-class citizen, I imagine," Betty said.

"Well, yes, I think that's the point. I think that's even what Sara wants."

Betty shook her head. "I don't know that I get that. But, well, I guess I hope she finds what she's looking for. Or comes to her senses. Almost a shame she spent all evening posing for her, instead of looking for a, what would you call it? A master."

Gray cleared his throat. He did that, sometimes, when he wanted her to see something in a painting or a drawing she hadn't noticed. So she looked again at the pictures. They were really very good work. Maybe Gray should spend more time drawing figures. There had to be a market for that sort of thing somewhere, and she knew he created his best work when he was enjoying himself.

Then it hit her. "She was hoping that you would be her Master, wasn't she? Someone she knew. Someone safe."

"Yes, exactly."

This was his chance to say of course he wouldn't dream of such a thing.

Was having him have one slave girl worse, or better, than him fucking a dozen girls every Friday night who would ever be faceless to her? Well, and that was assuming it was going to be just one.

"You didn't stop by the Ruritanian embassy on the way here, did you, Gray?" Betty asked.

"No. I didn't. I wanted to talk to you about it all first. I figured that would be in the morning, but you're up."

"You want her?"

"Yes."

No hesitation there. Just yes. She stared, and then pushed her chair back. "Tell me more, Gray."

"I watched all the fucking. The sex. Some of it was acrobatic, as you saw in the pictures. Some of it highly erotic. I'm sure I could have put my dick in a dozen girls if I'd wanted to. They kept coming by and asking, while I was drawing Sara. But I don't think it's what I want. I started wondering if maybe I just wasn't, well, demonic enough, to go and plow a score of faceless women. Not that I couldn't keep getting it up. But it's all a little empty, in a way. If you had been there with me, it might have been different. I noticed most of the demons had a special someone, or someones."

"You know," Betty said. "Most husbands make a point of not having their wives watch when they have sex with other women."

"Sure, because they're cheating."

"Well, yes, that. But even Brad and Kerry, you know, the poly couple, I remember them saying they never do it in front of each other."

Gray shrugged. "Well, I'm weird. We knew that."

Betty smiled. "Yeah, we kinda did."

"Anyway, then I realized there was another way I was plenty demonic enough. The idea of being able to own someone? Of being able to decide things for them that most people get to decide for themselves? Yeah. That turned me on. I kept imagining drawing her with a collar on. You know the collars the Ruritanians have now? Sara was telling me about them."

"I don't know that I've paid it a lot of attention." That, too, was a lie. She had been perversely interested in the details. No self-respecting feminist would want such a thing, of course, but she wondered what it would be like. If she hadn't been so sore down there all the time, she probably would have jilled off thinking about it. But with an always horny husband, that hadn't happened.

"They have cameras on them, so the master can always see where his slave is and what she is up to, but I can't see monitoring that all the time. GPS, of course. But they are also shock collars."

"Like on a dog," Betty said, trying to sound surprised. "I'd always though that was inhumane."

"The dog doesn't choose to put it on."

"Would you push the button to shock her, Gray?"

"It wouldn't be what she wanted, if I never did, would it?"

Betty looked at him sideways. "All about her?"

He paused, and then shook his head. "No. I wouldn't' want to push that button very often. But at least once, yes, I - it's turning me on right now."

"It's kind of turning me on, too," Betty admitted. She didn't know whether it was the idea of having a collar, or of watching the young, beautiful woman in the drawing in front of her as he pushed the button. It couldn't be the former, because Betty saw herself as a strong, independent woman. It couldn't be the latter, because she also saw herself as a nice person.

"Let's go to bed," Gray said.

Betty nodded, her soreness forgotten. It was amazing how being turned on made her forget that she didn't want to have sex for a week so that she could recover. She got up, and Gray scooped her up and carried her up the stairs. He dropped her on the bed.

Thank goodness he had all his clothes on, or she suspected she'd have a ripped nightgown. She managed to get it off, though, and then he changed.

Ah. Demon sex always felt extra good.

It always hurt extra after, too, but that was a problem for later.

She spread her legs, and he started to go down on her. She thought of telling him he didn't need to, but it felt too damn good. She knew that some of that was the demonol in his saliva being absorbed into her body, giving her an aphrodisiacal high. Some was his extra long infernal tongue. And some of it was his skill as he drew the alphabet or something on her clit.

He didn't make her cum, though. He kept her on the edge, until she begged him to fuck her. Then he moved up and thrust his big fat red cock deep into her sodden pussy.

"Now," he said.

And she came, her body overcome by pleasure as her pussy pulsed around his cock. It seemed to go on and on, while he grinned at her, not moving. When it finally stopped, he started thrusting, rhythmically.

Using her, filling her, stretching her.

How many times had she told him she'd had too much, she just couldn't take it anymore? And yet here she was, enjoying herself. She'd pay for it later, of course. If she had a collar on, she'd always know that saying no could have consequences. But no, Gray was a kind, understanding man.

Dammit, because a part of her loved the idea of not being able to say no, even if she had to buy a wheelchair because she got too bowlegged.

That was hot, too. The idea of his fucking her permanently changing her. She was on the pill, so it wouldn't change her that way, but he had probably resized her pussy and ass already.

"Yes, Gray, yes," she told him, pushing up against him. She could feel her soreness now, the ache in her pussy. She just didn't care. She wanted more. "Fuck me."

He fucked her, and she came, gushing around his cock. And then he came, hard, spurting again and again inside her until it leaked out and down her thighs, and then cumming some more. He's been looking at naked women all night long, fucking and sucking. And he's been looking at her, Sara.

So much cum. He pulled out and dripped it on her belly. She reached down and stroked his cock, feeling their combined wetness on the shaft, tugging him toward her. He spurted a little more, bathing her breasts.

"Suck it," he told her.

She cringed a little, because it had just been in her pussy. Would he shock Sara, if she said no to such a command? She opened her mouth and tasted him. So sweet and clovey, if she ignored her own metallic tanginess mixed in. He wasn't getting soft at all. Usually there was at least a little break. She didn't think her pussy could take much more.

He pulled back, still rock hard.

"Pussy or ass?" he asked.

Oh, she always preferred it in her pussy, but right now it was so sore. And the idea of not having a choice was erotic. "You choose." She almost said Master. Sara would call him that, if he let her. Betty knew, at some level, that he was looking for her agreement.

Unlike a dog, a slave chooses to wear a shock collar.

He flipped her over. He liked variety, so she should have known that would happen. He lubed her up with one thick demonic finger, and then pushed his cock inside. The first few times, he had to go so slowly, but he'd re-sized her. He filled her up, and started thrusting.

She was in the wet spot, but she squirmed against it, trying to rub her clit on the wet sheets. She hated anal, and she loved it. Hated it because her ass never seemed big enough, loved it because it felt like he was in control.

She didn't know why she loved him being in control. She reached down and played with her clit, trying to make herself cum while his cock pounded her ass.

She went off at the same time he did and saw stars for a moment as she almost passed out from pleasure and an intensity that was not quite pain but not quite fun, either. When her vision cleared she was still lying in the pool of their juices, and he had rolled off her.

He picked her up, and set her gently on the floor, and she wondered what was going on. Had the thing with the collar gone to his head, and he was now making her sleep on the floor?

"I'll change the sheets," he said. "You just rest while I do the work."

Oh. She supposed there wasn't any place else nearby that she could go, really, while he did that. If she went on the furniture she'd just make a mess of that, anyway.

He changed the sheets and then picked her up and put her in the bathtub downstairs, not leaving until he'd turned the water on and got it to a good temperature. Then he went upstairs to shower himself, and when they were together again, it was four in the morning, but the sheets were clean and so were their bodies. Gray had turned back to being human.

She wondered if he was going to ask her if she was okay with Sara, but he didn't. He was going to let her sleep on it, she supposed.

She was so sore. The club thing hadn't really worked. Rather than getting exhausted with other women, he just came home hornier than ever. And she'd been horny too, which was great, but oh. Ow. Ugh.

"How are you going to support her?"

"I assume she'll keep working."

"Ah. Right." That made sense. Three incomes would be better than two, and three could live more cheaply, per capita anyway. "Collar her, Gray. We need another set of holes in this house." Before you kill me with your cock. Although what a way to go.

#

It wasn't quite that simple.

Those who had seen Gray suddenly stop and whip out a sketch pad in order to draw some seemingly random vista or person might have thought him an impulsive person, but in most ways he was cautious. A decade before he'd been burned badly in a relationship, and it still stung. Nicole had left out the little fact she was married until he was head over heels in love, and that wasn't going to happen to him again.

So he spent time getting to know Sara. And having Sara and Betty get to know each other. And listening to Betty's concerns and hopes. Then Sara wanted to go to Ruritania for a month of "slave training," which meant more delay. Gray didn't know if there was much point in generically training a slave - after all, Sara needed to learn his preferences, not the preferences of some archetypal Ruritanian infernal. But perhaps Sara would learn that slavery was not for her, after all. It would be good to find that out before she committed herself, and so Gray supported her going.

He was surprised at how much he missed her, and how much he hoped that she wouldn't change her mind.

While she was gone, Gray even went to Inferno a couple of times, trying to see if he'd just been shy, if maybe banging a dozen different chicks in a night was his thing, after all. He couldn't deny it was fun, and maybe he'd do it again sometime, if he wore both Betty and Sara out. But he fundamentally would rather go deep than go wide.

Sara was far from the only woman who wanted a Ruritanian collar. He talked to a couple, at the club, but somehow they didn't gel. And besides, he was waiting for Sara to come back. He could hardly claim at this point to be a one-woman man, but he had his own notions about fidelity that had only been reinforced by the affair with Nicole.

A painting he'd done of a woman, lifted off the floor and impaled on an infernal cock, had sold for several thousand dollars. At this rate, he might be able to support Sara and Betty with his art. He made a mental note to order more cadmium red.

The morning Sara was supposed to fly back, Betty reached for his hands at the breakfast table. Clasping them, she said, "I hope she still wants this, Gray. And I'm ready. Bring her home tonight, or take her straight to the embassy, however you think you want to do it. I've got a room all ready for her."

He smiled. "Thank you, Betty."

"Two days off of sex, that's all I ask."

He cringed. "Sore again?"

"Five times last night, Gray. Five times. And you made me cum each and every time. If we do it again I'm going to pull a muscle, I just know it."

Okay, maybe he had been a bit voracious. "Oops."

"You are who you are, Gray. Not quite exactly the man I married, but I love you just the same."

"And I love you."

"Who do you think you'll love more, Gray, your slave or your wife?"

He knew what answer would satisfy, but he also knew he couldn't know without experiencing it. So he said nothing for a while, while she watched him. "Love isn't a limited resource," he said at last.

"Ah, no. Time and attention are though." She chuckled. "And I suppose I want a little less attention, so it's all good. I'm on board, Gray, really I am. I'm just going to have moments, and you're going to have to deal with them. Comes with the territory. Well, time for me to go to work. I imagine I'll beat you home, even if you come straight back."

"I'm not going to take her to the embassy, Betty. I want you there for that."

"Ah," Betty said. "Yes, I'm part of it, aren't I? I never thought I'd have to watch as you enslave another woman." She frowned. "No, that's not what gets me. It's being watched, as you enslave another woman. With what? Pity? Ugh. Don't mind me. I'll support you."

She got up.

"You okay?" Gray asked.

"I'm okay. My phone just buzzed, so my ride is here. And Gray - that third orgasm last night was absolutely amazing. Makes me wet just thinking about us. I complain, but I also love it." She leaned over, gave him a kiss, grabbed her purse, and headed out the door.

Gray spent the morning painting, but he had an unexpected visitor.

"Hello there, Gray," Lily said.

He looked over at the demon - the full infernal, not merely a human with an infernal soul - that had suddenly appeared in his office. She was wearing a skimpy silver and gold outfit that showed off her curves.

"Hello, Lily."

"Got to say, we are loving the work you are doing these days. Hot demon sex! Good going. You are a hit in hell."

"Uh, great?"

"Yeah, the demon lords have been pirating your work."

"What the heck?" Gray said. "That's not cool."

Lily just stared at him.

"Seriously," Gray said.

"Gray, we're evil, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, I guess it could be worse."

"Exactly! Besides, if we bought your stuff, the Celestials would accuse us of manipulating the art market. You should have seen what happened when Asmodeus tried to buy a Hieronymus Bosch piece a few hundred years ago. Anyway, just wanted you to know you're loved." Lily kissed him, and then vanished.

That afternoon, he parked in the cell phone lot, since he was ten minutes early. He'd known that the "training" involved no outside communication, but not getting even a text from Sara had been unexpectedly hard. Last evening he'd finally gotten one. "Home soon. Can't wait to see you!"

He'd looked at it a dozen times. He checked her flight, and saw that it'd be another twenty minutes, at least, so he looked at it again. Can't wait to see you. Can't wait to see you. Even his most paranoid brain couldn't figure out how that would be bad. And she didn't want a nervous or needy man, anyway. She wanted a dominant. A Master. Waiting and worrying sucked.

He drew the parking lot. Cars were boring, but if you broke them down into light and dark, and drew the negative space, it became a certain sort of abstract challenge. Meditative, even.

His phone buzzed, but it wasn't Sara. Betty. "I love you and support you!"

He smiled, even though he'd been waiting for a different text. It came a minute later, after he'd fired off a quick, "thank you and I love you, too."

"Landed. This girl hopes you still want her."

Right. The month without talking had probably been harder on her than it had been on him. Some of the books he'd read while she was gone, from a Ruritanian recommended list, had suggested that it was good to keep a slave, or a prospective slave, on her toes and feeling a little uncertain. Have her walk through the airport nervous and uncertain, and she would be that much more grateful that he deigned to accept her service in the end.

To heck with that. "Of course I do," he texted back.

Airports being airports, it was fifteen minutes until he saw her come out the glass doors with the number 14 over them. But then she broke into a run.

She looked even prettier than she had at inferno. Maybe it was the daylight, or the makeup she wore. She had on a short black bodycon dress that had a zipper across her breasts, and her heels were so high he wanted to yell at her to stop running before she broke an ankle. She was carrying just the small bag she'd left with. But he barely got out of the car and over to the passenger side in time to welcome her in his arms.

"This girl is thankful for the hug, Sir," she said, pressing her body against him.

He grabbed her hair, tilted her head back, and kissed her hard. He was in human form, but he could feel the yen to shift, even though it would rip his clothing and cause a scene in the parking lot. Mine.

Still, the sign had said not to linger in the loading area and hadn't made an exception for demons with prospective slaves.

"Thank you, Ma - sir," she said, when he let her go.

He opened the passenger door for her, and she crawled in. Then he walked around the car to the driver's side. It was amazing how, after waiting for a month, the walk from one side of the car to the other still seemed to stretch on way too long. A horn blared, and he didn't bother to look to see if they were wanting his spot or some other. He got in, put the car in gear, and headed for the highway.

"It's nice to see you, Sara-for-now."

"It's nice to see you, too, Sir. This -" she broke off.

"This?" he prompted.

"This girl wants to follow your lead," she said.

"That wasn't what you were going to say."

"This girl is eager to be fully yours, Sir. Whenever you wish."

Gray put his hand on her thigh, briefly, and squeezed. He should have known better than to draw in the parking lot. Now it took an effort to see cars as objects, rather than patterns of negative space. And when driving, the objects were somewhat more important, so he was focusing on the road until his other instincts kicked in. "I'm taking you home," he said. "I want Betty there for your collaring."

"Home, Sir?" Sara said, sounding disappointed. "This girl was hoping not to be separated from you again."

"Not your home, silly," he said. "Mine. And what's with the 'this girl' thing? You did that when we first met."

"Yes, Sir. This girl was taught this month never to use the first person for herself in the presence of an infernal. Unless, of course, her master commands it."

"Well, I'm not your master - yet - but I do so command."

Sara purred. "Thank you, Sir, for commanding me. God, this girl has - I mean, I've missed that!"

He laughed. "So, really, no first person for a month?"

"If we screwed up, it meant five lashes. And not light swings, either. They were very good at hurting us without marking us, and we all learned very quickly. This - I, um, recommend their methods to you, Sir. I hated it, but it worked. So much so that I'm struggling to obey you now."

"Well," Gray said. "You can mix it up. I'm not going to punish you for not using the first person. Just now and then I want to hear that you, Sara-for-now, want this."

"With all my heart, Gray. I realized something while I was gone."

"Hmm?"

"I love you. I don't know if that's just because a slave girl can't help but love the person she dreams about serving, or if it's something else. But it's there. You don't need to love me back, of course. It's not about reciprocity. If you gave me a choice between being your property, and being your lover, I would choose property every time."

He loved her, too. Whatever that meant, and it could mean so many different things. But to say it now would feel too automatic. As she said, they weren't about reciprocity. "I'm glad you're back, Sara-for-now."

"Thank you, Sir."

"Tell me more about your experiences," Gray said.

"Well, there was a lot. So many things. How to stand. Slave positions. How to walk in heels. Techniques for sucking cock. What to say, how to think, even. I don't know where to begin, and some of the things are probably best shown. Would you like this girl to serve you with her mouth now, Sir?"

"You are serving me with your mouth," Gray said. "By talking. And I don't want any distractions while I'm driving."

"Yes, Sir. Does that mean I should zip up?"

He glanced over at her. She'd unzipped the front of her dress, so that her bare boobs were outside of it. Young, ripe, perky breasts. And there was a little tie in the middle of the dress that allowed one to lift the hem in the center and attach it to the waist, so that her pussy was on display as well.

He forced his eyes back to the road. "That's an interesting dress."

"It's the latest in Ruritanian fashion," she said. "Most women there display themselves. And until I got on the plane, I've been naked for the last month."

"That sounds intense," Gray said.

"It was at first. Then it was almost normal. But whenever we got comfortable, they kept ratcheting it up. Once we were okay being naked in the school, they took us out for walks in public. And then they had us masturbate in public. As you say, it was intense. Everytime this girl started to feel comfortable, there was something else. Sir?"

"Yes?"

"You said you liked variety in how I refer to myself? Because I was trained to do that, too."

Gray grinned. "Variety is great."

"Very good, Sir. This cunt will strive to give the one she loves to serve lots of variety."

Gray blinked, a bit surprised by the c-word. And kind of turned on by it, too.

"This whore would be grateful to know any preferences you might have."

Traffic ahead of him was slowing down, just as driving had become automatic again. In a minute, they were stuck bumper to bumper. A car honked, and he wondered what the driver expected the other drivers to do.

Then he realized the driver was looking at Sara. Sara looked, noticed him, and then looked back to Gray.

He thought of telling her to zip up, but it was interesting seeing how utterly unconcerned she was. "I guess you've really gotten used to being naked, huh?"

"Yes, Sir. But also, he's not important. What you see is important. What other people see is irrelevant, unless it matters to you. When serving, a slave girl's focus on her master's needs should be absolute. And maintaining that focus in the face of distraction -" she broke off.

"Yes?"

"This slut's needs are not relevant either."

"Tell me what you were going to say, slut." The word just popped out, but it didn't seem to bother Sara any.

"This slut is turned on by the fact she is so focused on you, Sir, regardless of others, so in a way, oddly, that man is helping me get wet for you by the very fact that I am striving to ignore him."

"Play with yourself, girl. But stop if a police car gets close."

"Yes, Sir." Without hesitation, Sara opened her legs and started rubbing her clit.

"Good girl." Traffic moved forward, so Gray had to take his eyes off of her for a moment.

"This bitch has been trained never to orgasm without permission, Sir."

He chuckled. "And is this bitch close?"

"This bitch is very close, Sir."

"That sounds like it could be frustrating."

"As long as this fucktoy's frustration entertains you, Sir, then know that she lives to serve."

He glanced over at her and smiled. She looked straight into his eyes, and he could read the desperation in her eyes.

"Not yet, but I do think you should have one last orgasm as a free woman at some point," he said.

"One, Sir?"

"One."

"I do hope that means that this girl will not be free for long!" Her voice had gotten higher, as she tried to talk and focus on not cumming at the same time.

"No, Sara. You will not be free for long. Look up for me how late the Embassy is open, will you?"

He already knew that the answer was six o'clock, but it amused him to watch her try to use her phone with one hand, while jilling off with the other. Unless he missed his guess, the mention of going to the Ruritanian Embassy for her enslavement would be turning her on even more.

Traffic inched forward, and he inched forward with it.

"Six p. m., Sir," she said at last.

"Ah, well, that would be tight. I guess it will wait until tomorrow."

A moment later she said, "We could just make it if we turn off at the next exit."

"Ah," he said. "But Betty is expecting us at home. I want her there, Sara. So it will have to wait until tomorrow as I said. Put your phone away. I didn't ask you to look up a route."

"No, Sir. This worthless whore is -"

He cut her off. "You will never call yourself that. Not worthless. Never."

"Yes, Sir. They - well, they had us practice saying many degrading things, in case it entertained our masters."

"And that one does not entertain."

"Thank you, Sir. This girl is sorry."

"I will punish you if you do it again."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

He chuckled. Yeah, he could do this. The next time he had to stop, he saw that she was still looking at him, still stroking her clit, still looking desperate.

"You may," he said, and paused.

"Yes, Sir."

"Stop, now."

Disappointment flickered across her face for a moment, and then she actually smiled as she took her hand away from between her legs. "Thank you, Sir. This girl is glad that you own her orgasms, now and forever, and cannot wait to sign them over to you officially. May I say something?"

"You've been saying things," Gray pointed out. "And in fact, I ordered you to talk."

She smiled. "I just wanted to say that I've never been this turned on before in my entire life, Gray. I love this feeling, where I feel so much love, and lust, and yet at the same time, I feel - well, while you still theoretically don't own me, all of that while a little voice in me wants to say 'fuck you' at the same time. It's the hottest thing ever."

Gray chuckled. He thought he got it. It was kind of like the way he felt for her, that he wanted her and loved her and yet - he had to torture her a bit so that they both felt his ownership of her. That would only be more true once it was all official. "I get it. And you can say 'fuck you' if it leaps to mind. I'll take it as a compliment."

"Yes, Sir. And I won't get punished for it?"

He grinned at her. "Of course you'll get punished for it. Maybe even in a way that makes you say it again, so I have to start all over. You know, I'm looking forward to having you edge yourself more. That look in your face."

"It pleases you, Sir?"

"I want to paint it. I haven't told you yet, Sara, I've been getting some good sales for paintings I did based on things at the club. And some of the girls and the demons there have asked me to do some commissions. Early days, but if I can make a thing of this, then maybe neither you nor Betty have to work."

"That's very good news, Sir. Happy to pose for you whenever you ask, of course."

"You might become a bit well known yourself."

"As your model? As your slave? That would all be an honor."

He grinned.

"How is Mrs. Harding, anyway?"

He knew that she wasn't just enquiring after her health. A month away, and Sara had to be wondering if his wife would have second thoughts about it all. "She's well," he said. "This is a challenge for her, but she wants it, too. And she likes you."

"Yes Sir. And how do I behave toward her? Is she to be my Mistress, once I am your property, or is she like a sister, or a friend, or a housemate?"

"Like a sister, I think. So if she makes a reasonable request of you, then by all means do it, but I'm not expecting her to flog you for misbehavior or anything."

She nodded. "At the school, they made us flog each other sometimes. And then if we didn't hit hard enough, the girl doing the flogging would get flogged themselves. We learned to hit hard. I didn't think I could do it, honestly, but once I thought of it as another way to serve, I did what was asked of me. It got to the point where you would rather the instructors flog you, than a fellow trainee."

"Well, I'm not expecting you to flog her, either," Gray said. Although the idea of the two girls competing while he watched was entertaining. He put that thought aside for now.

Finally, he pulled off the highway.

"This whore will walk naked through the streets covered in your cum if you ask her too, of course, but you may want me to zip up so that I spend the night at your home, rather than in jail," Sara said.

Uh, yeah. "Yes, make yourself decent."

"May this cunt expose herself again once we are inside?"

"Well, and after you greet Betty, I think."

"Thank you, Sir, for allowing this bitch to bare her body for your pleasure."

He smiled. Maybe there was something to this 'slave training' business, after all.

He parked the car in the driveway, and Sara got out, carrying her little bag and navigating the driveway and sidewalk in her high heels. She was lovely, and he was lucky to own her. Or to own her soon.

Oddly, he didn't feel nervous anymore, even about Betty. It would go as it went, and he didn't know if his infernal self was asserting itself, but he felt confident.

Betty, still dressed in a suit for work, opened the door before they got to it. "Hello, Gray. Hi Sara. Glad you made it back to us safely." She opened her arms, and Sara hugged her.

All Gray could do was watch.

"Come in, dear. I wasn't sure when you'd make it, so I waited to order dinner. Maybe you'd like to give my husband a blowjob while we wait?"

Sara gave me an impish grin. "Well, any reasonable request, didn't you say?"

Gray knew better than to let the women have control. "Expose yourself properly, Sara, and kneel by my chair." While Sara hurried to obey, he kissed his wife.

"What did she mean by any reasonable request?" Betty asked.

Gray started to say he'd explain later, but decided that the explanation was worth both of them hearing. "I had been trying to say that if you asked her to help you with the dishes, or something, that she should help."

"Oh. Well, I'd do the same for her, that's just common courtesy."

"Right. So when you suggested that she give me a blowjob, she decided that was common courtesy, too."

"Hopefully very common around here," Sara said.

Betty glanced over to Sara, who had unzipped the top and rucked up the bottom, as before. "That's an interesting dress," she said.

"The latest in Ruritanian fashion," Sara said. "But you can order them online."

"Um. Yes. Well, I'll just order dinner for now."

Gray watched Betty go and then sat down himself. Sara leaned forward to unzip him.

"I think you've earned a treat," Gray said, and pushed her hands away. "Undress me."

He unbuttoned and removed his shirt, while she took off his shoes, socks, and pants. He kissed his feet as she did so, and then his cock when she exposed that, with the reverence of a worshiper. More training, it seemed. Well, he could get used to that.

He transformed.

She moved forward to lick his cock. "I can be slow, or you can fuck my face, or anything in between, Master," she said.

He thought of telling her he wasn't her master yet, but it didn't seem worth objecting. "Somewhere in between," he told her. "Stopping you from cumming turned me on, so I want you to satisfy me." There was something profoundly unfair about the notion that he needed to cum because she wasn't allowed to, and yet he thought they both found the unfairness hot.

She slid her lips over his tip, and down his shaft. And then further. He was pretty sure she hadn't gotten that much of him in before. And then she went still further. He wondered, briefly, if they practiced on dildos or the real thing, at the school in Ruritania.

She looked up at him, eyes wide, searching for something.

"Yes, girl. You're doing good."

She got one more inch inside, incredibly enough. It wasn't the whole thing, but it was most of it. The rest she covered with her hand, and started stroking.

He realized she'd blocked off her airway, and she wasn't breathing. He wondered just how long she could do that, but he didn't want to find out the hard way. "Breathe, Sara-for-now."

She pulled back, and her nose flared as she took in oxygen. Without taking him out of her mouth to catch up, she started sliding her lips up and down his shaft, her wet tongue sliding over the underside, her hand doing a little twisty thing on the base, her other hand caressing his balls.

Betty came in, having shed her suit jacket, and sat on the couch to watch.

He lasted two minutes and then he came down her throat. He watched her as she eagerly swallowed his load. She stayed there, sucking, and getting every last drop from him.

"She's very skilled," Betty remarked.

"Isn't she?" Gray said, proud of Sara and surprised he'd cum so quickly. Well, he'd be ready again quickly, too. He nudged Sara back, and she sat on her haunches.

"Thank you for feeding this cumslut her favorite food," Sara said, with a grin.

Betty rolled her eyes.

Gray glanced at Betty, trying to figure out what she was thinking right now.

"Are we going to the embassy in the morning?" Betty asked.

"I was thinking so, yes," Gray said, not asking Sara what she thought.

"I figured, so I told them I wouldn't be at work until the afternoon."

"Good girl," Gray said.

Betty gave him an odd look, and it took him a while to realize what he'd done.

"I mean, thank you."

"Sara," Betty said, "My husband is still hard. Do you think you might be so kind as to slide one of your holes over his cock?"

"That's a very reasonable request, Mrs. Harding," Sara said.

"Betty, please."

"Yes, Betty." Sara turned to Gray. "Which of my holes would you like, Sir?"